True Love is Not a Fairytale
by Evil Cosmic Triplets
Summary: In spite of their rocky beginning, what Rosalee and Monroe is true love. A series of drabbles written for the GGE.
1. Dance with Me

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and no profit, monetary or otherwise, is being made through the writing of this.

**A/N:** Written for xPerfectlyImperfect for the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2014. Request was for: Grimm - Monroe/Rosalee or Nick/Monroe friendship. I like angst, fluff, freeverse, drabbles, oneshots, anything really :)

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1. "Dance With Me" - Sweet Talk Radio

"Love can be like a rose

A few thorns as it grows

But divine when it blooms

Petals of sweet perfume"

It's been a long, grueling day. Things had not gone the way that anyone had wanted them to. As a matter of fact, they'd pretty much sucked.

Monroe sighs, catches Rosalee staring at him, a lopsided smile on her face, and his heart soars.

He returns her smile, holds his hand out to her, palm up, and she takes it.

Monroe pulls her close, twirls her around once, then twice, and a third time. Her dark hair swirls around her head, fans her face, and she blows at a lock of it that's stuck in her mouth, rolling her eyes in exasperation when it remains firmly in place.

Monroe tugs it loose, frees it from her mouth with a finger, and she laughs – it's a rich, melodic sound, and Monroe thinks for sure that his heart's going to burst with happiness, and he wouldn't mind if it did.

As shitty as his day's been, it doesn't stand a chance of remaining that way. Not with Rosalee looking at him like that, her lips quirked upward in a smile, long lashes fluttering against rosy, red cheeks.

He dips his head, and they kiss. Time stands still, at least for a heartbeat, maybe two.

They dance around the room to nothing but the sound of the music that their own hearts supply. It's an off-beat rhythm. Not something that anyone else would be able to follow. And that's okay, because it's _their _music, and it's not meant for anyone else but them.

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Let me know if you like.


	2. Joy to the World

**Disclaimer:****See initial drabble.**

**A/N: **Not sure why this music inspired this drabble, but it did. My mind can be a mystery at times.

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2. "Joy to the World" - Three Dog Night

"Joy to the world

All the boys and girls

Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea

Joy to you and me"

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Rosalee's never been happier in her life than she is right now, and she feels like she's got to pinch herself, just to make sure that it's real, and not a dream.

She's hesitant to do that, though, fearful that it _is_ a dream. That Monroe and what they have building together for the past year have been nothing but a dream. A beautiful and often terrifying dream, but a dream nonetheless.

And, if she woke up, right now, she'd miss it. She'd miss _this_. She'd miss Monroe.

She'd even miss the terrifying parts – the parts that are part and parcel of being a Fuchsbau, in love with a Blutbad, whose best friend is a Grimm.

"Penny for your thoughts," Monroe says, catches her by the sleeve as she moves past him to finish stocking the shelves before she calls it a day.

She smiles at him, knows that, if she told him what she was thinking, he'd understand. He'd try to help assuage her fears, and he'd succeed, because he's Monroe, and he's good at that.

He's good at making sense of things. At making sense of her. And that's a big part of why she loves him, but that's not what she needs from him right now.

"Kiss me," she says, instead.

Monroe shrugs, pulls her close, and kisses her. And it's so much better than a pinch. Makes her realize that, even if this _is_ a dream, it's one that she never wants to wake up from.

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Reviews are appreciated, and valued, and let me know if my work is good. So, please review, and let me know if this is okay. Thanks (especially since I'm a Monroe/Nick shipper by nature, and I'm a bit new to this particular pairing)


	3. Hello Operator

**Disclaimer: See initial drabble.**

**A/N:** Again, my brain is a different place, though I think this one matches the song better.

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3. "Hello Operator" - The White Stripes

"turn the oscillator

twist it with a dollar bill

mail man bring the paper

leave it on my window sill"

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Monroe dials Rosalee. Lets the phone ring twice. Hangs up, because he's sure that she's busy now. Doesn't want to bother her.

But, he misses her. Misses the sound of her voice, even though it's only been a few hours since he last saw her – slipping from beneath their tangled sheets to take a shower before work. The bathroom mirror sweating from the warm steam.

He dials and listens to the phone ring. Hangs up before she can pick up, or it goes to voicemail.

He sighs. Pinches the bridge of his nose, and closes his eyes.

Pictures Rosalee as she was that morning when she'd first woken. Dark hair cascading down her back, and around her face in wavy rivulets. Eyelids heavy with sleep. Lips plump and slightly parted. The picture of beauty.

_Beauty and the Beast_, Monroe thinks. Lets his mind wander a little, and his face flushes. His heart stutters and he has to look at a clock, because he's hard, and aching, and wanting, and Rosalee's just a call away.

But she's busy. Working. She can't play Beauty to his Beast. Not now, in the middle of the afternoon.

_Technically, it's eleven fifty-three,_ Monroe thinks. _Eleven fifty-three. Eleven fifty-four. Eleven fifty-five._

Before he can even pick up the phone to call her again, there's the sound of a key turning in the lock. Monroe's heart races. His breath quickens, and before she's even turned the knob, he's at the door, ushering her inside, and they're kissing.

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Reviews would be icing on the cupcake. If you're so inclined. Thanks


	4. Normal

**Disclaimer: See initial drabble.**

**A/N: Again...no accounting for what my mind is thinking at times. I believe, in this case, it was the rather melancholy tone of the song which sparked this drabble.**

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4. "Rocket Man" - Elton John

"And I think it's gonna be a long long time

Till touch down brings me round again to find

I'm not the man they think I am at home."

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"You ready for tonight?" Rosalee doesn't know why she's so nervous.

They've done things in public, together, before. It's not like they're doing something dangerous. Something that has the potential to end in fireworks or bloodshed.

And maybe that's the problem. That there's no danger involved in tonight's outing. No Grimm thing to follow up on, no chasing after some rogue Wesen. Nothing anticipated which will give either of them an adrenaline rush.

For the first time in their relationship, the only fireworks that they'll be seeing will be those that they make on their own, with each other. And she's worried that there won't _be_ any fireworks.

It's not adversity which is a true test of a relationship, but the normal. The mundane. And she's worried that she and Monroe won't pass it.

"More than ready," Monroe says in a throaty growl, coming up from behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

He kisses the back of her neck. It makes her shiver, and she turns to capture his mouth in a kiss. Feels a spark.

They pull back, and she nods. She's ready – heart pounding. Ready for a normal night out on the town with the man she loves. Something that so many other couples take for granted, because that's all they've ever had. Normal.

"We've never done normal before," Monroe says.

"We can handle normal," she assures him, and, smiling, she kisses him. There's that spark again – it travels from her lips to her toes.

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Reviews are what make the writing world go round. Kind of. They do make my day.


	5. Light

**Disclaimer: See initial drabble.**

**A/N:****I'd have thought, "Rocket Man," would've sparked this particular drabble...but, well, my brain, again.**

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5. "The Light" - Common Kings

"I need the light, the light, the light

Show me the light

Show me the way

I understand why I'm here today"

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Rosalee saunters into the room clad in a light-pink, satin nightgown; a chenille robe slipping off her milky white shoulders.

The material covers her breasts and hips, allows for Monroe to use his imagination, because it doesn't reveal everything. Lets his mind supply the images beneath what his eyes can see as Rosalee dances for him.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, pictures the curve of Rosalee's hips – the mark he'd left there the night before. Has to bite his lip and open his eyes, press his palm against the noticeable bulge lurking beneath the sheets.

Rosalee smiles – it's predatory – walks out of the robe like she's shedding a second skin, her hair falling about her shoulders like Medusa's head of many snakes. It's tantalizing.

Monroe's enthralled. Frozen in place. Eyes glued to Rosalee as she shimmies, loses the nightgown in a pool of pink fabric on the floor.

Provocative and playful – rouged lips parted in a falsely innocent 'O', eyes sparkling with mischief – she crawls across the bed, rubs against Monroe and _purrs_.

Monroe growls, nips at her throat, and Rosalee laughs. It's throaty and rich, the sound cascades over him like a mountain spring.

She grabs his hands, places them squarely on her hips, holds them there for a moment, and kisses him. Straddling him, she reaches beneath the sheets and touches him.

Momentarily blinded, he bucks up, into her hand.

"Wait," Rosalee whispers, pulls hard and tight, and he's gone – shooting off like a rocket.

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**A review a day keeps the blues away.**


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